Fall of the Last
by Pendragon1985
Summary: Following a heartbreaking betrayl by those she once trusted, something within the Dragonborn cracks. The Blades seek to hunt all dragons. Maybe it's time to remind them that she is a dragon herself. If they want to kill all dragons, they better start with her. They won't like the alternative.


With a crunch, I fall to my knees. Tears seep down my face, almost painful in the freezing mountain air. That same air that carries with it a deeply wrong, metallic smell. A smell I'd grown horridly used to over the recent years, but one I'd never hoped to smell like this. With a scream to the skies, it echoes across the wide open lands around this lonely mountain, and even further, pushed by the magic of my voice. My dragon's blood burns with pain. With anger. And sadness. No amount of my magic, nor swings of my sword, or words of power could fix this. How dare they! They'd done nothing wrong - he'd done nothing wrong - and these monsters butchered them without a care in the world.

Arngeir, the only of these wise people to speak to me when I first arrived. Always my staunchest supporter, even when he didn't support my actions. In everything, measured calm thought, before just action. A true mentor, and a true gift to the order. One of my first true friends in Skyrim. Indeed, it was through him that I truely learned to speak to many of my closest friends, the Dov, the dragons, that I'd come to befriend following Alduin's defeat.

The second mentor, and the person that first taught me not only what it meant to speak, but to feel the word within myself. To feel the joy that comes with the gift of dragon tongue. And the one that first allowed me to enjoy the act of moving really fast. I'll never forget the thrill we both felt, using that shout to race up and down the mountain. Borri, in many ways, was as young as I, while being the eldest of the Greybeards, save for the grandmaster.

Growing up as I had, I'd never learned to truely read, draconic text or otherwise. Einarth had laughed when he'd first heard, a deep echoing sound that filled one with mirth, as though it were a shout to itself. And then he'd spent weeks teaching me to not only read the common tongue, but the elven one, and the draconic text. Which was an excellent lot of fun, as he spoke only in the dragon tongue, and I was hurriedly learning a lot of words, even those I couldn't connect to shouts. A truely new experience, and one I treasured when searching Alfand for the Elder Scroll. Always the scholar, and quite like the uncle I'd had growing up.

And the distant one, but no less helpful. Wulfgar was, in almost every way, more eccentric than the other Greybeards. Speaking only infrequently, and shouting from the top of the tower every hour. He'd taught me to not only tell the time by the sun, but also by the echo of the words within our souls. Given how long I often spend underground, that proved invaluable to me. And every time I found some new sweet food, I'd always either bring him some, or learn to make it for him. Unlike the others, he'd always had a sweet tooth.

The Blades, a group of people dedicated to hunting down dragons. All of them, apparently. Even the peaceful mentor to generations of Greybeards. They'd come, and killed everyone that had stood in their way. Einarth had fallen first, trying to stop them from entering at all. Wulfgar had fallen when they'd made it to the courtyard, as he was about to shout the time. Borri had tried to go and warn the others, all the way atop the mountain. Finally, Arngeir fell defending the grandmaster, Paarthurnax.

Leaning over, I place my hand on his scaly cheek, already going cold in the snow. Ah, Paarthurnax. Always willing to offer me advice, help me with challenges, or just be there for me as I did anything. In truth, he was my greatest mentor, and one of my closest friends. A truely noble soul, for he had, like he'd said in one of our earliest meetings, overcome his evil nature through great effort. Through everything he'd done, he was always striving for not only my good, but the good of all peoples, and his own kind, even without sacrificing anyone along the way.

And the monstrous Blades had come and killed him, slaughtered like any other dragon. Without care for the wisdom he was able to give, or the fact that I wouldn't have been able to defeat Alduin without him. Killed, simply because he was a dragon. The Blades don't care about anything apart from killing all the dragons. Maybe, maybe it's time to remind them that I have the soul of a dragon, and if they want to kill all dragons…

They'd best kill me too.

"Dovahkiin," whispers one of my friends, approaching from behind me. Looking mournfully over my shoulder, I nod at my friend. "Who has done this to the old one?"

"Who do you think Odahviing?" I snap, the words echoing far more loudly then they should. "Of course, you can expect nothing less from a monster."

"I'm so sorry," she says, stepping up to beside me and placing a hand on my shoulder. The simple, almost human action nearly brings a smile to my face. Some dragons had managed the art of temporarily transforming to a mortal form. It'd been especially easy for those who'd experienced the dragon-rend shout before. "I may not have liked him, but I know how much he meant to you. We all respected the old one."

"Do you feel it," I whisper darkly. "Paathurnax once told me that dragons were meant to dominate. It was their nature. And that every day he fought against it."

"I feel it Astrid," whispers Odahviing, kneeling down beside me.

"I'm going to kill them."

They'd best kill me too. Or I'd hunt them down. I'd hunt them down harder then the Thalmor were willing - or even able - to do so.

"I know love. I'm with you," she says, placing a slight kiss to the side of my head. "Every step of the way. Perhaps it's time to visit some of your friends."

"Perhaps it is." She smiles, revealing her still quite draconic teeth. "Shall we dear?"

"We shall," she responds, shifting back into her natural form. Moments later, a bellow echoes off the mountainside, as we take to the sky. They'd rue the day.

Hoods drawn about our faces, we walk through the dark midnight streets of Whiterun, carefully skirting around the still busy tavern as we head towards Jorvasker. The new harbinger was a good friend of mine, a shield-brother of highest caliber. Very few people are out and about at this time of night, mostly guards and that overly loud worshiper of Talos. None of them pay us much attention. The dragon issue was on the decline, and the civil war was over. Again, mostly due to the efforts of one of my friends. Upon reaching the legendary mead-hall, Odahviing pushes the door open and we step inside.

"Tordek," I say clasping arms with the towering Redguard. "It's been far too long m'friend."

"Likewise Astrid," he responds. "It feels an age shield-sister. Come, sit. There must be something important if you're coming in the middle of the night."

"That there is," I say gravely, taking the offered seat, and indicating for Odahviing to sit beside me. "Tordek, you've met m'dear before. But last time," I trail off, and consider my words. "She has learned, like I can take on draconic features, she can take on human ones."

"Odahviing? It is an honour to meet another of the dov properly."

"And it's an honour to meet you Harbinger," replies Odahviing, her voice soft.

"Forgive me brother, but you said another? Which other dov have you met?"

"Once I went to visit you on High Hrothgar, instead I was introduced to Paarthurnax. He was in the library, and he'd even taught me some tricks that I still use to this day." Suddenly I find myself glad that his focus remained on Odahviing for the next few moments, for I nearly lost my composure. Beneath the table, Odahviing squeezes my hand tightly. She knew.

"Now, enough idle chatter," says Tordek turning back to me. "What have you come for?"

"I need your help brother."

"And you'll have it," responds Tordek, slamming his clenched fist to his left breast.

"This past afternoon, did you hear a scream?" I ask.

"Caused one," he says, with a proud grin, but stops when he sees Odahviings glare. "Come to think of it though, I did hear something like that from the mountain."

"That was me." My voice cracks slightly on the last word, and I take a breath to calm myself.

"What Astrid means," cuts in Odahviing to give me a few moments, "is that scream was her. She'd found her oldest mentor, murdered."

"The Blades," I hiss, "killed them all. Paarthurnax. Arngeir. Borri. Einarth. Wulfgar. All of them. I don't know if you knew them well, but they were my mentors."

"I knew them all. I spent a week up there with them. Maybe not as well as you did, but I knew them Astrid. And if you're asking for help to avenge them, the companions are behind you."

"Thank you Tordek," I whisper. "I've a few more friends to see before we go to war."

"I'll leave the twins in charge here for a few days. We're are we going to first."

"A few of these friends you've not met before," I caution, realising rapidly that at least two of my friends will clash quite heavily with Tordek, and a third of them will find it difficult to find common ground with.

"And friend of yours is a friend of mine. It's not like they're Dark Brotherhood are they," says Tordek with a chuckle, until he sees my pained face. "Okay, so you know someone in the Dark Brotherhood. That I suppose makes a lot of sense."

"Actually, I know the new listener. And most of the new brotherhood."

"Don't forget to mention the guild-master of the thieves' guild," says Odahviing with a slight smirk. Bastard. Tordek drops his head on the table with a soft groan.

"I meant what I said last night," says Tordek. "Any friend of yours is a friend of mine. If you trust these people, I trust them as well."

"Tha-that means a lot to me Tordek," I respond.

"So, who's first."

"I've got quite a list," I warn. "It may take a few weeks."

"That's fine. Truely."

"Sah'harin of the thieves' guild."

"You mean Maven Black-Briars' new right-hand?"

"The same. We'll need Paelix of the Dark Brotherhood."

"Of course. I've not heard of him unfortunately."

"It's a her actually. Dark Elf. And it's a fake name anyway. Grant, hero of the civil war."

"I'm actually close friends with him to be honest."

"That's good. Etael, the new Arch-Mage."

"Of course. A little magic is always useful. Anyone else."

"Four, actually. And only one that you might have an issue with. Isran, of the Dawnguard."

"Vampire Hunters?"

"Aye, sorta. It took some doing, but I managed to convince them to form a treaty with the remaining coven in Skyrim. Serana, of that same coven."

"Okay, a vampire." He shudders slightly.

"Frea, of the Skaal, and Orkal, the current Orc-King."

"Only you'd know people from Solsthiem of all places, and manage to be an outsider and know the Orc-King. So, who's first?"


End file.
